I Carry You in my Heart
by whowhatsitwhich
Summary: Written for the USS Caryl Drabble Challenge. It's the little things that keep her memory alive. Five times Daryl and Carol think of Sophia and one time her best friend reminds them that what you have can be just as good in its own way as what might have been.


I Carry You in my Heart

prompt: *5 times Daryl and Carol were together and thought of Sophia. And the one time they thought of: (authors choice: any of the children characters on the show.)

Baby shampoo:

Judith Grimes was the one shining light in their drab and dreary world. They couldn't give her much in the way of creature comforts but there was no doubt that she was loved. It fell mostly to Beth or Carol to take care of the little girl in the day-to-day but everyone took their turn. Judith was a sign that everything could be good again. Her wide-eyed wonder was more precious than gold to the world weary group trying to eke a life out of the rubble.

Bath time was Carol's. No matter what, she was always there when it came to that part of Judy's routine. The woman would unwrap the wriggling infant, coo nonsense words as she settled her into tepid water, and laugh softly as the little girl made errant swipes at bubbles or chubby toes. She washed her tip to toe swiftly and efficiently before swaddling her in the plushest towel the prison had to offer. Carrying her back to the bunk to get her dressed and settled for the night, Carol would bury her nose in the little girl's soft curls and breathe.

The sweet, powdery scent never failed to bring Sophia to mind. The warm weight resting in her arms, the bluer than blue eyes looking up at her so trusting, the fingers curling tightly around her own. Her thoughts inevitably wandered to those quiet moments when her baby was small and Ed would be gone for days at a time doing whatever it was that he did. She hadn't had it in her to care because everything she'd ever wanted was nestled safely in her arms. She reveled in those memories as she pulled the onesie over Judy's head and buttoned her up all warm and cozy into a pair of footsie pajamas somebody had picked up on the last run. Those big eyes watched her solemnly as Judy gnawed on her fingers.

"She just about ready to get settled," his molasses slow drawl broke through her thoughts. Carol turned and shot a grin at the man leaning casually on the cell door. He gave her a look before his gaze settled on the little girl trying to catch her toes on the bunk. His lips quirked up as she caught one and pulled it toward her mouth, only to squawk in displeasure when it popped free of her grasp just short of its target. "Keep trying, Asskicker," he encouraged. "You'll get it next time."

"She just needs her snack and she'll be ready to go," Carol smiled to herself as he crossed the floor and knelt by the bunk, his hands gentle as he gathered the baby up and cradled her against his chest. "I'll go get it if you don't mind watching her." He gave an acknowledging grunt, his full attention on the baby as Carol left to go get the bottle.

She was back just moments later and froze as she watched him lift the little girl to his shoulder, gently patting her back. He bent his head and breathed in, murmuring softly as Judy let out an aggravated squeal. "Take it easy now," he crooned. "Supper's on the way. No need for that."

He caught a glimpse of Carol in the door and put out a hand for the bottle. She took two careful steps forward and handed it over; her eyes searching his as he gave her an inquiring look. "Everything alright," he asked. She nodded numbly, the sight of him with Judith indelibly imprinted in her mind. Never had Ed held Sophia with such tenderness and, yes, love. Never had her bastard of a husband appreciated what a miracle they'd been given in their daughter.

His eyes narrowed, clearly seeing some of her thoughts in her face, but he didn't question it. He settled Judy more firmly into the crook of his arm and smirked as the baby grabbed the bottle and held on tight. "Nobody's gonna take it from you," he told her in amusement. "Whole damned group would come down on them if they tried."

Carol hid a grin behind her hand as his cheeks turned pink, realizing that she was still watching and listening. Rather than tease him, she asked lightly, "Have you eaten yet?" He shook his head and huffed in annoyance as she gave him a stern look. "I'll go get you something," Carol announced. "You two behave while I'm gone."

She waited until he gave an impatient nod before walking away a second time. She paused to rub away telltale wetness before heading into the kitchen to fix him a plate. How differently might it have been had Sophia had a father like Daryl instead of Ed? She had deserved so much more than what she'd gotten. If only. She pushed a hand through her hair and smiled at the clean scent of baby shampoo clinging to her hands.

Rag Doll:

The prison wasn't quiet anymore with the influx of new people from Woodbury. It was hard to adjust to new faces and tight quarters. It was even harder to get used to the noise. Before, there was a few times during the day when the cell block was silent and still. Now, there was always somebody doing something. It grated on him, not being able to get a moment to himself. Even though he was slowly but surely being pulled out of his shell, part of him rebelled at the thought of all those eye on him, all those people depending on him, expecting him to be something he never thought he could. Sometimes, he just needed space and time.

Daryl tucked himself into a shaded corner of the courtyard, his hands busy dissembling his crossbow as he took advantage his unexpected solitude. The others didn't spare him a glance, busy with the lunch cleanup or heading out to the towers to keep watch. He smirked to himself. It was about damned time, he thought as he broke the bow down and arranged the pieces for cleaning. He eased deeper into the little patch of shade and rested his back against the concrete wall, half closing his eyes.

Footsteps scuffing the pavement pulled him upright, a scowl settling on his features as he looked around. The harsh words died on his lips as he caught sight of the little blonde girl a short distance away cradling a rag doll in her arm and held close as she bent over a bucket of chalk. She pulled out a pink one and knelt, biting her lip in concentration as she started to draw in wide sweeping arcs. She sat the doll down beside her, and then rounded her masterpiece before stooping down to add more detail. The doll listed to the side, until at last, it fell over in a heap, unnoticed by the girl.

He couldn't take his eyes off it. The scar in his side throbbed and burned where the arrow had gone clean through. Daryl hissed in annoyance, closing his eyes as he tried to put to put it out of his mind. No fucking luck. He could still see it, plain as day. The sunlight glinted off the rippling surface of the creek, fording around the dead tree half buried in the mud. The pale yellow dress the doll wore stood out like a beacon. He had been so damned hopeful that he'd find her when he pulled that doll out of the mud. He'd known without a doubt that it was just a matter of time until the girl would be back home safe with her momma. Hope. That had died the minute she wandered out of the barn, thin hands raised to shield her eyes from the unforgiving sun.

A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his reverie, fingers clutching at the buck knife sheathed at his waist. Daryl stayed the motion as Carol's blue-gray eyes widened just before she took a hasty step back. "Fuck," he grated. "Quit sneaking up on someone like that. Get yourself hurt if you ain't careful."

"Sorry," she eased herself down beside him, watching him carefully from the corner of her eye. "Thought you'd fallen asleep. I was going to tell you to go lay down for a bit. Everything's covered so it would be a good time to rest. You don't sleep enough as it is."

"M'fine," he mumbled. "Don't need no damned nap."

Carol shrugged, looking at the girl with a soft smile on her face instead of meeting his eyes. "I love their drawings," she confided. "They look so pretty even in this place. It's good that they're still able to do that. Means there's still good in the world."

Daryl side eyed her, his mind still caught up in the memory of that doll and the little girl who had loved and lost it. "I guess," he mumbled. "Need to get this back together and go relieve Glenn. I've got next watch." He levered himself up and swept the pieces of the crossbow into a neat pile. His eyes sought out and lingered on the doll. He bit his lip, giving a small head shake as he hurriedly glanced away again before Carol saw what he was doing and put it together.

Her hand caught his arm, slid down until their fingers twined together, and she gave him an understanding smile. "Don't be out all night," she ordered. "There are more than enough people to cover the shifts. You don't have to do it all."

"Just doing my part," he growled uneasily but made no move to pull away. "I'll be in in three hours. Tyreese has last call."

She nodded to let him know she'd heard her eyes like his still on the girl. "Stay safe."

A reluctant smile tugged his lips up. "Hey now," he admonished. "That's my line."

"So sue me," she sassed. His quiet huff of laughter made her grin as he shouldered his bow and walked away.

Cherokee Rose:

The table was beautifully decorated, an old lace tablecloth scrounged from a nearby farmhouse covering the pitted metal table top. A handful of wildflowers in a clear glass vase added a touch of unexpected whimsy. It was by no means fancy or traditional but it was the best that could be had all things considered.

The bride was radiant, beaming at her nervous groom standing in open-mouthed awe as she walked slowly toward him. Her white dress swished about her knees as she moved, more blooms tucked into her dark length of hair. Carol's heart lurched at the look on the young lovers' faces as they came together. Maggie's smile was luminous as she looked away from Glenn long enough to pass her bouquet to her sister.

The creamy petals of Cherokee roses stood out in stark relief to the pink azaleas and purple asters surrounding them. She quickly lowered her eyes, blinking away a sudden burn of tears. His hand found her back, moving in small supportive circles. She leaned against him, drawing strength from his quiet presence. He was there as always, watching and waiting should she need him. A glint of blue flicked toward her, his only outward sign of concern other than those fingers tracing lopsided lines from her shoulder to her waist.

"I'm glad for them," she whispered. "They look so happy and in love. It's good to see it."

His head moved in a slight nod in agreement, but his fingers found her shoulder and squeezed lightly before letting go. Carol kept her eyes on the young couple, making promises and plans despite the grim world they lived in. It was good to see… a bright spark amid the darkness. A bit of hope that things could and would be good again.

Little Hands:

They lined the walls of the library…splayed fingers and wobbly signatures. He stutter stepped as he caught sight of them, the shock like a punch to the gut. Ten little hands made a pretty pattern, a cheery burst of color against the dull gray backdrop. There was even one for Asskicker, her name written on the front in careful script. Carol or Beth, he suspected. They made sure that Judith took part as much as possible with the rest of the children.

He remembered the run like it was yesterday, a desperate search to find formula for the little girl. They'd lost too many already, sacrificed too much to let another one go. The daycare had been their last best chance since all the stores had been cleaned out long before they got to the prison. He'd been half-hoping for a miracle even though he'd quit praying a long time ago. He'd followed Maggie through the broken window, bow uplifted when he saw it. Small and slight, made of yellow paper, the name Sofie scrawled in black magic marker across it. He'd pushed it aside at the time, bound and determined to get Asskicker what she needed. Afterward, he tucked the memory away in a shadowed corner of his mind and tried to forget.

He traced Judith's hand, spreading his fingers over top of it in disbelief that something could be so damned small. He heard a familiar chuckle behind him and didn't turn around to demand, "What are you laughing at?"

"You never cease to amaze me," Carol stated, her mouth tipped up at the edges. "Just when I think I have you pegged, you do something that I don't expect. It keeps me on my toes." She chuckled as he dropped his hand and stepped back, his cheeks suspiciously pink. "If you like, you can make one and I'll put it up. The kids would get a kick out of that."

"Hush," he grated out. "Kids will have to get their kicks somewhere else. I've got better stuff to do with my time."

"Sure you do," Carol said coyly. "Don't worry, Pookie, I'll keep your secret."

His growled oath had her snickering as she sauntered toward the door. "Don't push it, Carol," he called after her. "A man can only take so much sass before he has to do something."

She whirled to face him, all innocent eyes and broad smiles. "Daryl," she drawled. "Anytime you want to do something, you know where to find me." She spun on her heel before he could get another word out, her laughter trailing along behind her.

Rainbow:

The air was soft and sweet after the storm passed, the sky a hazy shade of blue. A swath of color arced over the prison, the bands fading one into the other…ruby red to deepest purple. It was a promise, they said, sent by God in reassurance that he would never again destroy the world with water. Considering the alternative, Carol couldn't help but think it might be a better way to go.

Sophia loved to hunt for rainbows, running outside after every storm as long as there was a hint of sunlight above the horizon. She would spin around in circles, eyes searching frantically for the slightest glimpse. When she didn't see one, her lips would turn down, big eyes disappointed and downcast as she shuffled back in the house. Carol would hug her, and then playfully ruffle her hair before bringing out paper and colored pencils. If the rainbow wouldn't come to them, then they would go to the rainbow. The refrigerator and her bedroom walls were soon covered with their efforts. Her favorite shirt was blue and had a rainbow on it. She wore it at every opportunity. She'd been wearing it when the herd overtook them at the highway and sent her running blindly into the trees. She'd been wearing it when she stumbled out of the barn, stained and grimy with dirt and blood.

"We can follow it if you want," Daryl commented, his eyes on the knife twirling lazily through his fingers instead of on her. "Don't know what good the gold would do though. Maybe we could ask those elves for some clean clothes and bullets instead."

"Leprechauns," she corrected absently. "Not elves. Leprechauns have gold at the end of the rainbow."

"Don't care," he retorted. "It don't matter." His head tipped back, following the banded curve with his eyes.

"She loved them," Carol divulged. "They were her most favorite thing in the world. She must have drawn a thousand of them."

Daryl gnawed on his thumbnail; eyes still on the sky above even as his head tilted to show that he'd heard her. "Maybe that's a thousand and one," he said idly.

Carol's eyes drifted skyward, her hand sliding into his as though they were made to fit together. Somehow he always knew just what to say. His gaze flicked sideways, lips quirking up slightly. "Maybe so," she agreed softly. "Maybe so."

Best friends:

He was all lanky limbs and wide blue eyes, his hair falling into his eyes.

He was closer to being a man now instead of a boy, despite his age. The world going to hell had seen to that.

No child should have to see what Carl Grimes had seen over the last few years. It had changed him, made him cold. He stared out from beneath those overgrown bangs with dull, leaden eyes. Watching Rick struggle to keep some semblance of childhood for his son rather than folding his arms and letting the inevitable happen made Carol's heart ache. Would she be facing the same challenges if Sophia was still alive? There were no easy answers to that question.

Her gentle daughter was gone but her memory lingered. Carol felt her at the oddest times, and in the oddest places. She saw Sophia as she would have been had the unthinkable not happened. She would have been beautiful, tall and long limbed with bright eyes and a ready smile. Her corn silk hair would hang down her back. Maybe she and this boy would still be best friends, maybe more. It hurt to think about what might have been, what could have been.

The boy's hand rested on the gun hanging at his waist, eyes always on the move as they stood by the gate. The others would surely be back any minute with Glenn and Maggie in tow. They'd lost so much already, friends who had slowly but surely become family over course of that first hard winter. Carl, more than anyone, had felt that loss. First Sophia, then Dale, and lastly T-Dog and his own mother. So much loss for one so young. How could he bear it? How did Rick hold up under the burden that had been placed on his son's shoulders?

"She was proud of you," Carol said suddenly. "Your mother." Her heart fell as he hesitantly shook his head.

"I was mean to her," he said softly. "Said stuff that I shouldn't have and acted like I was mad."

"She loved you, Carl," her hand rested on his shoulder, startled that she had to reach up to do it. "Don't doubt that. She loved you more than anyone."

The dull roar of a motor rumbling up the drive interrupted them. "Please let it be them," the boy begged out loud. Carol silently echoed him, eager eyes on the bend in the road. The green Hyundai came into view, causing both of them to let out a breath. They hurriedly unlocked the gate and slid it aside as the car rolled through. It stopped and the doors were flung open as Rick and Daryl slid out looking a little worse for wear both otherwise okay.

Rick scooped his son up and hugged him fiercely. Carol couldn't hold her smile in as Carl flung his arms around his father's neck and squeezed just as tightly. She felt a touch on her shoulder and leaned her head over to rest her cheek on the back of his hand. "Welcome home," she murmured.

"You alright," Daryl's eyes searched her face, worry and concern plain despite the blood and dirt covering him.

"Fine," she answered, patting his arm reassuringly. "You?" He nodded but continued to study her closely. "Just thinking how things would be different if she was still here. Is that wrong?"

"Don't think so," he answered. "You can't help what you feel."

"I wish they were all still here," she admitted. She caught his sideways look and turned to face him squarely. "All of them," she repeated. "They were all family."

His smile was warm and slow, lighting up his face in a way she rarely saw. "You're a real piece of work, lady, you know that."

She didn't answer, just took his hand and whispered thanks to whoever was listening that her family was safe and sound. What might have been was a pretty picture but what they had was beautiful in its own right.

A/N….so this was much harder than I thought it would be. I'm pleased as punch with the results. Thanks to USS Caryl on Tumblr for the prompts. Thanks to whoever takes the time to read my story. It's greatly appreciated.


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